Thank you - A short story

December 19, 2018

With baited breath I wait, in the darkness, nothing to comfort me but the sound of my own, shallow breathing. Unable to move, with no desire to. My entire existence feels like it led up to this moment, nothing comes close the sheer anticipation in the pit of my stomach, gurgling up and coming out of my throat with the words "come back?"

My body aches, longing to feel the touch of your fingertips, your hands running down my body, the hard thud of his paddle. Anything, anything at all. I feel the weight of the restraints you put me in, I feel every breath I'm taking as if it was my last and I listen, and finally, I hear you. The slight sound of footsteps coming towards me is enough to make me remember why I am here, and yet confuses my body into doing things I didn't ask it to.

I feel my nipples become harder, as if longing for you, and my clitoris miraculously gain a pulse, wanting your hot breath upon it.

You're here, I can feel you in the room, my body knows the feel of you, and yet you wait. I can hear your shallow, distant breathing, I can feel your eyes on every inch of me, and I know you are savouring the moment. Until I feel it, a slight touch.

The smallest stroke of my cheek, unnoticable had my senses not been heightened by my lack of movement and lack of sight, but I felt it, and you did it with such purpose that I could almost feel you smile. I lick my lips, waiting for your next move.

Like a game of chess, your movements around me so deliberate and strategic, it's as though we haven't done this before a million times. I know whats coming next, I think to myself. I know your next move and then it's check mate. I open my mouth willingly, as you stroke my cheek with the back of your hand and moisten the tip of your cock on my lips. I can barely mumble, "Thank you."